


The Dragon and the Saint

by greygerbil



Category: Stanton & Barling - E.M. Powell
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Riding, trying out new things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 18:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/pseuds/greygerbil
Summary: Stanton can tempt Barling to do a lot of things he's never even considered.





	The Dragon and the Saint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



The sun blinked through a gap between the shutters, painting a stripe of bright colour onto the woollen blanket. Stanton could hear birds singing outside, even here, in the middle of London, where the houses stood so crowded and the trees were so sparse you’d never guess any still found a place to nest. The room smelled faintly like fresh ink and old parchment, a now familiar and pleasant mix.

However, the man it reminded him of was gone, as Stanton discovered when he felt the spot next to him on the mattress and was greeted only by soft sheets over easily yielding straw.

“Barling?” he murmured, slowly opening his eyes.

To his left, there was a quiet creak. He saw Barling look up from where he knelt before the chest that held his assortment of neatly folded robes, one draped over his arm.

“Finally awake?” he asked back.

Stanton glanced out of the space between the wooden halves of the shutters. The sun looked barely to be over the rooftops. Considering how late into spring it was, he could hardly be accused of sleeping the day away.

“Neither of us _have_ to be up, especially not at this hour,” he groaned. “Sunday is the Lord’s day, don’t you know? You’re not supposed to work.”

“Nor are you supposed to laze in bed all day. I don’t see you using your free time to venerate the Lord over there,” Barling said, though there was a humorous note to his tone. Apparently, the bright morning was putting him into a good mood – or, if Stanton could flatter himself so far, maybe it was the lingering memories of last night, which were still etched as dark marks into Barling’s pale skin, on his chest and his shoulder, one love bite even on the inside of his right thigh.

The sight distracted Stanton from the argument. Barling didn’t think he was handsome and it used to be that Stanton would have concurred, when he was still bitter and resentful over having been sent with him. Now, however, he found himself admiring the poise in his thin limbs with which he always carried himself, loved to grasp on to his narrow hips and press his face against the curves of his hip bones, and felt his heart flutter every time Barling gave him a smile. He loved, too, that Barling was comfortable enough before him to stand only in his undergarments as they talked, though he was holding the robe before his chest to cover as much of himself as possible. Even this much wouldn’t have happened a couple of months ago, and certainly not when they had first gotten together after the terrible events at the abbey.

“I’m not saying we have to sleep ‘til noon, but we could stay here a little bit longer. No one’s awaiting us.”

“We?” Barling asked, crossing the few feet’s distance from the chest to the bed. “You are the only one with your head still on a pillow.”

Barling’s desire to wag his finger directly in his face would be his downfall, Stanton decided. He waited half a second before he sprang up and grabbed Barling around the waist. Barling gasped as Stanton dragged him down, easily toppling him and putting him flat on the sheets. The colour that rose into Barling’s cheeks looked very nice on him.

“Then I guess I’ll have to give you a reason to stay with me,” Stanton said, kissing the crook of Barling’s neck.

“In bright daylight?” Barling stuttered.

“We’re on the third floor. Who will look through your shutters?”

Grabbing the robes from Barling’s hand, which was still slack with surprise, he chucked them halfway across the room. Barling huffed, but seemed to be hiding a laugh behind it.

“Just this once,” he said sternly.

“Just this once,” Stanton repeated smugly as he rubbed a fingerpad across the mark he had left on Barling’s shoulder last night, “now where have I heard that before?”

In their few months together, he’d already collected a sizeable list of things Barling had claimed they would do ‘just this once’ – for example, when Stanton had left the first love bite on him, or when he’d joined him in the bath tub one evening, or when he’d dragged him off into the bushes on a deserted piece of country road to take their pleasure.

Barling’s nostrils flared with indignation before he turned his head away.

“You are right, I have been too lenient lately. We should stop immediately,” he answered.

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Stanton said, running his broad hands over Barling’s flat stomach, kissing his Adam’s apple and feeling it bob under his lips as Barling swallowed. “Would you, Aelred?”

He still enjoyed the way Barling’s given name rolled off his tongue, and that he was perhaps the only one who ever used it these days. They usually called each other by their family names even now, since they were already used to them and neither wished to draw undue attention by slipping up in front of other people by appearing too familiar. Stanton’s first name was heard off the lips of quite a few men and women, of course, but he thought a lot of people probably forgot Barling even had one. It made ‘Aelred’ feel almost like a pet name. It had the desired effect, too, as Barling pulled him closer.

“You are a menace,” he declared, winding his legs between Stanton’s.

Stanton had slept entirely without clothes, so lying this close to Barling already had him half-hard against Barling’s soft thigh. He only grinned in response to his griping and then slowly moved down Barling’s body, touching every available inch on the way down. You could count his ribs under his pale skin, which always worried Stanton a bit, but Barling seemed fine with what little he ate and Stanton suspected pushing against all his walls at the same time wouldn’t end up a success. Barling had already picked his vice and it was not drink nor gluttony but Stanton, a choice Stanton was very grateful for. And they had barely scratched the surface of all the things they could do together…

Stanton wrapped his hand around Barling’s cock, which gave an interested twitch in his hand. His head was leaning comfortably in the dip of Barling’s hip. Barling had propped himself up on his arms, watching him closely.

“Don’t think of anyone else now,” Stanton teased, glancing up, “or I’ll be angry with you.”

With those words, he lowered his lips over the head of Barling’s cock. He’d never done this before, but he figured if he could put his mouth between a woman’s thighs, it was only fair. Besides, Barling had been doing Stanton the favour quite often and seemed to enjoy himself. That plus the story from Paris Barling had told him had long ago given Stanton the idea that he should do try this if the opportunity presented itself. 

Barling’s legs shifted restlessly.

“You don’t – have to-”

“I want to,” Stanton assured him with a smile.

Sometimes it still seemed to him like Barling was worried that Stanton had somehow entirely missed the fact that he was a man, and some detail or act would trip him up to this startling reality. Considering how things had gone with Richard, however, he couldn’t blame him.

He wasn’t going to be as good at this as Barling, who left Stanton’s head left spinning with his clever tongue, but Barling was already grasping the sheets just from feeling Stanton giving his cock a few quick kisses. He’d long lost all shyness around Barling, never one to get hung up on questions of technique and skill when affection was involved. From the way Barling looked at him when they were together, he saw that there was no reason to fret over a few experiments gone awry.

He pulled Barling’s long undergarments out of the way as he brushed his lips along his cock. Following a sudden inspiration, he put a hand between Barling’s legs, licking his fingers before gently teasing over his balls, then sliding under them. Barling made a wordless sound of surprise when Stanton pushed a finger into him just as he took him in his mouth. His hips twitched upwards, but only for a fraction before he caught himself, heels digging into the straw mattress, which rustled under the treatment. Stanton grinned around his cock. He may have had to strike the sails if Barling used his mouth as roughly as he had done to Barling a few times, but he gladly would have taken the chance because he loved every moment when Barling forgot himself, which so rarely happened.

At the very least his awkward but enthusiastic attention to Barling’s cock seemed to relax his lover, as there was barely any resistance when Stanton pushed his second finger in. Looking up at Barling’s body gave him quite a new appreciation for its long, familiar lines, too – and another idea.

Stanton sucked him in as deep as he could before pulling off and chuckled as disappointment entered Barling’s expression.

“Would you try something for me?” he asked, lazily spreading his fingers in him.

“What is it?” Barling asked, but his tone didn’t sound as wary as he may have wanted it to; it was too breathless for that.

“I want you to ride me.”

“Ride you?” Barling echoed, confused.

“Yes. Like Saint George,” Stanton hinted.

“I have no idea what you are speaking of, but I would ask you not to bring saints into our bed,” Barling answered and his scandalised tone made Stanton laugh.

“I’ll show you,” he said, pulling his fingers back and moving up to Barling’s side.

Barling turned to him and Stanton took him into his arms and then laid on his back, pulling Barling on top of him.

“You’d sit on my lap,” he explained.

Barling frowned. Stanton could see he was fighting with himself, but curiosity won out: “What on earth does this have to do with Saint George?”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to mention any saints?” Stanton gave back, innocently wide-eyed.

“You have my permission,” Barling said with an irritated twitch of the corner of his mouth, a half-hidden smile.

“Because there’s so many images of him sitting on top of the dragon he fights,” Stanton explained. He’d asked the same of the whore who’d first told him she’d be doing a Saint George on him. “Or the dragon on top of him. I’ve heard it both ways.”

“So you fancy yourself a wild dragon in this?” Barling asked dryly.

“Dragon or horse or saint would all be equally dangerous, considering it’s _you_ doing the riding. I’ve seen you fall off the fattest, most peaceful ponies,” Stanton shot back, dragging his hands up Barling’s sides and yanking him down into a kiss when Barling opened his mouth to no doubt remind Stanton of his own long list of failings. Barling resisted only for a moment. 

“I have never done this,” Barling warned as they parted. “Don’t expect my seating in this saddle to be outstanding.”

“You were wasted on Richard,” Stanton declared. Not that it was not generally true, but so many details reminded him. “What did he do with you all those nights?”

Though he was sitting with his backside against his lover’s erect cock, not exactly a position where you could claim chastity to start with, Barling still gained a little colour.

“Richard liked me best on all fours,” he muttered.

“Well, it’s a nice sight for sure,” Stanton admitted, though he hated to agree with Richard on anything. Of course, the man had plainly had much better taste than sense. “But I want to see more than just one angle of you.”

“And in the brightest light, too,” Barling said doubtfully, glancing at the window, where the shutters still let through enough light to show every detail of him to Stanton. Barling seemed to realise now how exposed the position truly left him.

“Yes,” Stanton said eagerly.

Barling hesitated, with a furtively hopeful look on his face, before once more he caught himself and turned his head, busying himself with the search for their small vial of oil, which they kept buried in the straw by the pillow now because of how often they needed it. He uncorked it carefully and put some on his hand before he twisted his arm behind himself to coat Stanton’s cock in oil, the gentle drag of his fingers making Stanton’s toes curl. When he caught Stanton’s attentive gaze, Barling pressed his lips into a tight line, but where Stanton expected a rebuke for watching so closely, none came, though Barling flushed pink to the tips of his ears as he awkwardly positioned himself. It was a shame he was so little comfortable, but considering he’d barely allowed Stanton to take his robes off a few months ago, this was a great improvement.

It was always heaven to sink into Barling’s body, even if Barling would have spluttered if Stanton had told him he thought in such terms. Stanton didn’t know much of God and churches, but he found what he did with Barling a whole lot less sinful than getting under the skirts of women he paid or picked up for an evening, and no one but the strictest moral guardians had ever had more than a disapproving shake of their head for that. Some sins seemed to be more heavily weighed than others in ways that made little sense to him and a bitter voice in him said that sins seemed to become easier to forgive if more men wanted to commit them. No, he loved Barling, and ever more so when he saw him here, embarrassed but determined to please Stanton nonetheless. This was good.

When Barling had slid down most of the way, he stopped abruptly and then carefully lifted his hips, but too high, so that Stanton slipped out of him again. Flustered, Barling turned to line himself up properly again. 

“You can’t wait to go hard, it seems,” Stanton joked, as he put his hands on Barling’s sides.

Barling frowned at him. The next downwards thrust was faster, but he only dared to move a little off Stanton’s hips now. His hands laid flat on Stanton’s stomach, arms drawn tight to his own body, making them block as much of the view as possible. There was little rhythm to the way he moved, and his body was as stiff as he’d be when sitting before his wax tablet with the judges at his back.

“We don’t have to do this,” Stanton reminded him after a few moments, breathless.

“If I cannot do something you call ‘riding’ even here, you will never let me hear the end of it,” Barling muttered.

Stanton chuckled.

“I promise, it doesn’t matter,” he said.

He wanted it, but not if Barling didn’t, and perhaps he should have thought to ask for it when the lights were out, knowing how Barling could get. It was just that the sight of him as he’d looked up at Barling had spurred on his imagination so quickly it had overtaken his head – as his passion often would.

“But you would like to do it like this, wouldn’t you?” Barling pressed.

“Well…”

He gave a sheepish grin. It was also very difficult to lie to Barling’s face like this. And if Barling wanted to try something for him, it just made it that much sweeter.

Perhaps he just needed a little encouragement. Stanton liked this, clumsy as it was, he just didn’t like the look on Barling’s face, but maybe that could be rectified.

Stanton took him by the sides and urged him to tilt forward a little more so he could raise his knees and place his feet flat on the mattress. This gave him a little more purchase. He lifted his hips to meet him and Barling twitched, looked beautifully startled for a moment. He was not a loud man as a rule, but he would make these small, voiceless sounds when Stanton pushed into him, and as Stanton rocked his hips, he heard Barling’s breath catch in the back of his throat.

Barling hesitated for a moment before he fell forward, catching himself on one arm on the pillow before he kissed Stanton, deep and increasingly demanding, as if he was drawing more courage from him the longer their mouths stayed pressed together. When he leaned back, his hands did not go back to their shielding position but stayed on Stanton’s chest and the touch in combination with the sight of Barling’s own arousal and his cock going between Barling’s legs, which were spread so invitingly, had Stanton groaning.

Barling glanced down and seemed to realise just now what Stanton was seeing; but though one hand flinched downwards, he stopped it, and, still coloured red down to the collar bones, stayed as he was. He seemed to have an easier time like this and Stanton was so focused on how handsome he looked, the sinews of his thighs pulled tight as he moved, his face drawn in concentration even as he panted for breath, that he barely realised that he was only following the pace now, holding on to Barling instead of directing his pace.

He could already feel the heat coiling in his stomach when suddenly Barling stopped dead.

“What…”

“Not yet.”

Barling, his usual haughtiness mostly recovered, raised a brow, and Stanton laughed.

“Showing you this was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

In response, Barling just hummed, gently moving his hips, not enough to push him over that edge. Stanton gritted his teeth, but he could not truly be frustrated when he saw a pleased, almost relieved little smile on Barling’s face.

“Please?” he tried, as nicely as he could, smoothing his hands up Barling’s thighs and wrapping one hand around his cock, giving it a firm stroke.

“This is not a bad time to decide to have manners, I will admit,” Barling said, his voice hitching up just briefly as Stanton squeezed him harder.

“I’m not so stupid after all,” Stanton joked, though the words died on his lips and were drawn out into a moan when Barling finally lifted his hips again, pushing down on him. He came inside him, Barling’s blunt fingernails digging into his chest, and it only took a few strokes of his hand to have Barling spend himself.

Catching his breath, Barling sagged onto him. With fondness, Stanton dishevelled the strands of his tonsure, even as he earned a tiredly displeased gaze for it. He loved how Barling’s hair looked right after sex, all improper, belying his status as stern clerk that it should have spoken of.

“You can make me do the strangest things,” Barling said, when he had calmed himself a little, peering up at him.

“Oh, if you think that was strange…”

Barling rolled his eyes at him and settled on Stanton’s chest more comfortably. His body was warm and soft, entirely too pleasant to the touch to release from his arms.

“We should really get up,” Barling noted, without making a move to do so.

“Just a moment,” Stanton muttered, eyes drifting close. “Just this once.”

Barling flicked his shoulder and stayed where he was. Stanton was fairly sure he heard a quiet laugh.


End file.
